Breaking The Barricade
by Mystique6
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire struggle to improve their relationship while Claire has problems of her own.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is just a fan fiction of the Barricade boys but I've set it in modern times and relocated them to the U.S. in the Washington D.C. area. My reason for doing this is because I know nothing about French politics. I hope you enjoy the story and please review. I own nothing from Les Miserables. All rights go to Victor Hugo. I'm also drawing my characters from the movie as well, so Tom Hooper deserves some credit there.**

Chapter One

Enjolras woke up to find himself still at his desk, apparently having fell asleep there at some time during the night. "More like the early morning," Enjolras thought running a hand down his face where he could feel the creases his book had made. He flicked his computer screen back to life and groaned. He still hadn't finished his paper for his Political Science class, despite the fact that he'd spent eight hours on it the night before. Normally, Enjolras would have had his paper finished a week before it was due, but there had been a rally this week and then his fight with Grantaire.

He tried not to think about their fight, though. It had been one of their worst, and Enjolras had said some terrible things to Grantaire. Since Wednesday, the night they held their weekly meetings, the words 'pathetic drunk,' 'no good reprobate,' and 'I can't stand you' kept tumbling guiltily in his mind. He knew he had been too harsh, he didn't need his friends disapproving frowns or accusatory looks. The worst part is, he hadn't meant a thing he said. In fact, he rather liked Grantaire. He challenged Enjolras to work harder and build a more solid defense in his speeches. And Grantaire himself was quite likable. He was smart and creative and funny. He would be a wonderful citizen in society if only he'd quit drinking. His drinking is what bothered Enjolras the most, even more than the man's incessant cynicism and complete lack of direction. Enjolras knew that at some point, if things didn't change, Grantaire would drink himself to death. And that would be such a waste of life.

Sighing, Enjolras stood up from his desk and stretched out his aching muscles. Before he could finish his paper he needed his cup of coffee. If Grantaire was addicted to alcohol then Enjolras was addicted to caffeine. Courfeyrac liked to tease that Enjolras was unbearable without his coffee; he didn't exactly lack merit. Enjolras himself admitted that he could become quite abrasive without his fix of caffeine. Enjolras made his way into the kitchen of the apartment he shared with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. Lying on the counter next to the coffee maker were his coffee mug and a note from his roommates.

_Enjolras,_

_We went out for breakfast and probably won't be back for about two hours. But when we do get back we need to discuss your unhealthy sleeping habits…again. _

_-Combeferre._

Enjolras smiled amusedly at the note. He couldn't deny he didn't have the best sleeping habits. In fact, it was rare for him to get more than five hours of sleep during a night. He tried to explain to his roommates that he needed to get work done, a speech to write, a rally to plan, but they insisted that he needed sleep more. He shook his head and poured his coffee into his cup, and gulped it down black. It was stronger that way and more easily cleared his head. He was about to walk back to his room when he heard a knock on the door so he went to answer it.

Upon opening the door he was shocked to see who it was. "Hey," Claire said pushing into his apartment. Enjolras couldn't clear the look of surprise from his face as he turned around and closed the door. Claire Newton hadn't made it a secret that she hated him, probably because she was best friends with Grantaire, and Enjolras wasn't always very nice to Grantaire. Considering what Enjolras had said to her friend on Wednesday he couldn't believe she was actually at his apartment talking to him now.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted out interrupting whatever speech she was rambling on about."

Claire sighed in annoyance and gave him a dirty look. "Did you not hear a word I just said?" she asked waspishly before continuing on without giving him a chance to answer. "We have an assignment together. Professor Myers paired us together. Didn't you get the email?"

Enjolras groaned as he remembered what was said in his history class on Thursday. He was a Political Science major but had taken a history class because the two majors paired well together. Claire was a History major and just happened to be in the same class as him. Enjolras remembered that the assignment was to present to the class your opinion of what started the Industrial Revolution in Great Britain. Professor Myers had told them he'd email them by Friday telling them who their partner would be. Enjolras kind of hated the man right now. "Yeah, I remember," he answered Claire.

"Don't sound too happy about it," she muttered sarcastically before getting to her point. "So I was thinking…"

"You know what? Today isn't a good day for me," Enjolras interrupted.

"Look, I don't really want to partner with you either, but it's nothing we can control. I think we can put our differences aside and work on this project over the next two weeks," Claire said.

Enjolras smiled faintly at her. "That's not what I meant," he said softly. "It's just that I have a paper for my Political Science class I need to get done that's due Monday."

Claire raised her eyebrows at him in surprise. "Don't you usually have your work done, like, a month in advance," she asked mockingly.

Enjolras took a deep breath before answering her. "I've had a busy week," he said. "I haven't had time to work on the paper. Can we talk about our project on Monday? Please?"

He may have been imagining it, but he could swear he saw a look of pity pass over her face. Claire sighed. "Okay," she relented. "You have my number right? Text me when you want to meet to discuss our topic."

"Will do," Enjolras assured her as she exited his apartment. He stared at the closed door before looking down into his now cold cup of coffee. "Damn." He refilled his cup and then went back to his room to finish his paper.

Grantaire woke up to a grade A hangover, the third one this week. It was unsurprising really. It happened every time he and Enjolras had a bad fight. He knew he should ignore the things the man says to him, but as far as Grantaire is concerned you can't ignore the truth. He is a pathetic drunk and a reprobate. He understands why Enjolras can't stand him. But that didn't make it hurt any less. Grantaire knew his crush on Enjolras was a lost cause that it was only going to cause him grief. But he couldn't help it. Enjolras's idealism attracted Grantaire to him like a moth to a flame. It was no secret to Grantaire that all people desired the traits that they themselves lacked. Sometimes he didn't know whether he showed up to Enjolras's meetings because he was in love with him, or because he was afraid that if he went too long without Enjolras, he might forget what the light looks like.

Groaning, Grantaire rolled over and swung his legs over the bed. He was about to strip and head for a shower when he heard someone fumbling around in his kitchen. The only reason it caught his attention was because he lived alone. Cautiously he walked out of his room and down the hall. Standing in his kitchen was his best friend, Claire. She was standing at the stove holding a frying pan. He smiled at the thought of actually eating breakfast today, and then noticed that she already had the coffee going. "What did I do to deserve this?" he asked taking a step nearer.

Claire turned at the sound of his voice and started to say something when she looked down and smiled wryly. "You might want to think about putting your dick away," she said pointing at his boxers with the spatula she was using.

Grantaire looked down and then hastily rearranged himself. "Thanks," he said sitting down at his counter as Claire set a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon before him.

"What are friends for?" she replied sitting next to him with her own plate. "Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it before." They laughed.

"So," Grantaire asked. "What are you doing in my neck of the woods?"

To his surprise, Claire actually looked sheepish at the question. "I…um, was visiting Enjolras," she said quietly.

Grantaire blinked in surprise. "Why?" he questioned.

Claire groaned and put her fork down. "We have to do a project together for that history class we're in," she sighed. "I can't believe we got paired together. I think I borrowed Bossuet's luck."

Grantaire laughed. "I doubt that," he reassured her. "It'll be fine. Your both a pair of brains, you'll finish it quickly."

"Please R," she moaned. "We won't even be able to agree on a topic! We're going to spend the two weeks at each other's throats."

"Relax," Grantaire said standing up so he could rub her shoulders. "Breathe. You'll get through this. It's just two weeks and then you never have to work with him again."

Claire sighed but relaxed into Grantaire's touch. "Did I ever tell you you're the best best friend anyone could ask for?" she asked.

Grantaire smirked. "I'm pretty sure most people don't want a best friend they constantly have to drag home from bars and then hold their hand through their hangovers," he replied dryly.

Claire frowned at the bitterness in his tone and pulled away from him. "I really hope that's not how you see yourself, R," she said getting up and grabbing their empty dishes. Grantaire didn't answer. They both knew that was exactly how he saw himself, and they both knew that no matter what was said that wasn't about to change any time soon. Grantaire was about to break the silence between them when Claire's phone buzzed. She stepped away from the sink and picked it up to read the text message.

"Who's it from," Grantaire asked.

"Courf," she answered lying the phone back on the counter and began washing the dishes again. "Apparently, he wants all of us from Les Amis to meet up at The Corinthe tonight."

"Are you going to go?" he asked her.

Claire turned around and shrugged, leaning over the counter towards him. "I'll go if you go," she said.

"Yeah, I'll…" he stopped talking when he noticed the red mark peeking out from behind her bracelet. She began to pull her arm away, but he quickly grabbed it and pushed the bangles back on her wrist. There were three, scabbed over cuts on her wrist that looked about two days old. Grantaire sighed. "You told me you'd stopped."

"I did," Claire answered but stopped at the look on Grantaire's face. "I was upset okay?"

"Why didn't you come to me about it?" he asked.

"I couldn't do that," she responded. "You had your own problems with Enjolras. I didn't want to bother you."

"You think I'm so caught up in my own problems that I wouldn't care about yours?" he said raising his voice. "Dammit Claire! How come you always get to take care of me, but I never get to take care of you?"

"What would you do, R? Wrestle the razor away from me?" she asked ruefully.

"Hell yeah I would!" he thundered standing and gripping her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Promise me you'll stop."

"Promise me you'll stop drinking," she shot back and he let go of her and took a step back. Claire smiled sadly at him. "That's what I thought."

"Claire, please just…it really worries me when you do that," he said. "Just, please if you're feeling that upset…just call me…or someone…just call someone."

"Hey," Claire said wrapping her arms around him. "I really did stop. I haven't cut in months. I just got really upset the other day and I had to let it out. I was sorry the second I did it. I'm not going to make a habit of this again."

Grantaire returned her hug. "What got you so upset?" he asked.

She sighed and looked up at him. "I ran into Channing at the grocery store," she replied. "He tried to get me to get back together with him. But I can't, R. Not after all that happened."

"No," Grantaire said firmly. "No, you can't get back with him. Look, I know you're having a hard time right now, but please, if you feel that upset again, please talk to someone."

Claire nodded. "I will," she whispered and then stepped back and smiled. "Cheer up. We've got a party to go to tonight."

By the time she and Grantaire arrived at the Corinthe everyone else had already arrived. "Hey," Courfeyrac greeted them. "You two finally showed up."

"Blame Claire," Grantaire said. "She takes forever to get ready."

"Hey!" Claire mocked indignity. "It takes a while to look this good."

"Look good?" Courf said. "You look hot."

"Ugh!" Grantaire groaned. "If you two are going to start with that shit I'm going to the bar."

Claire shot him a look. "Could we try not to get pig drunk tonight?" she asked, but Grantaire just grinned at her.

"Has it been bad?" Courf asked softly as the two watched their friend walk up to the bar.

"After what Enjolras said to him on Wednesday, what do you think?" Claire replied.

Courfeyrac winced, but then smiled easily. "Well, all wrongs will be righted tonight," he said cheerfully.

Claire suddenly felt suspicious. "What do you mean?" she asked giving him a look.

He just laughed. "Let's just say this get together was designed to get Enjolras to apologize to R," he explained.

Claire gave him a small smile. "I figured this get together wasn't for purely social reasons," she said dryly.

"Hey, it's a good idea," Courf replied. "Combeferre even thinks so."

"Combeferre approved, huh?" Claire laughed.

Courf, on the other hand, looked completely serious. "I thought you'd be all over this plan," he said. "Grantaire's your best friend."

She sighed. "I was all over this plan the first time around, and then the second, and then the third," she listed. "The problem is that every time the two patch things up it just falls apart again in a few weeks. I'm tired of watching Grantaire get hurt."

"So you don't want them to make up," Courfeyrac said. "You want to keep R away from Enjolras."

"Yes," Claire stated flatly. "His crush has become unhealthy, Courf. He's obsessed. He takes what Enjolras says to him to heart and he had enough self-esteem issues before all this happened. Enjolras isn't good for him."

Courf looked at her, a serious expression on his face. "Enjolras doesn't mean what he says," he told her. "He's just a very passionate person. He's so caught up in his beliefs and when someone doesn't agree with his beliefs he feels he has to defend them. It's even more frustrating to him that Grantaire doesn't believe in anything at all; he just can't understand that. But he doesn't mean what he says and he's been feeling extremely guilty about it since Wednesday."

"Not guilty enough to come and apologize sooner," Claire pointed out darkly and then sighed. "I'm sorry. I realize Enjolras is one of your best friends but Grantaire is mine. I know he doesn't mean what he says to R, but he still says them. And the worst part is, he doesn't even see what his words do to Grantaire."

"We all have our faults," Courfeyrac said and then smiled. "Come on let's go in and get the party started."

Claire nodded and together they walked into the Corinthe. Claire was about to make her way over to Bahorel at the bar when she noticed the person talking to him and stopped dead in her tracks. Channing, her ex-boyfriend. She had been in love with him. For two months they did everything together, including every sex position in the book. She had loved everything about him, his eyes, his hair, his heart stopping smile, everything. And then Eponine had told her he had a girlfriend. She had been crushed. After breaking up with him she'd locked herself in her room for three days. She didn't eat, she didn't sleep, she just cried. Eponine had tried to comfort her, but she had pushed her away. An unreasonable part of her blamed Eponine for the whole thing. After those three days she started living again. She'd been okay too, until two days ago when Channing had shown up at the grocery store and begged her to get back together with him. He told her he had broken up with his girlfriend. That the only reason he hadn't before was because he'd been afraid that what they'd had was too good to last. She had wanted to take him back, but she no longer trusted him. When she went home that day she opened up a new pack of razors and slit her wrists.

Courfeyrac seemed to notice her dilemma. "Oh," he said flatly. "I'm sorry, Claire. He was at the diner me and Ferre had breakfast at. He overheard us talking about getting the gang together tonight. We had to invite him, he's still technically part of the group."

Claire nodded. "I have to get out of here," she whispered and turned to go.

"What? No," Courf said grabbing her by the arm. "You don't have to go, alright? Listen to me. You don't have to talk to him, okay? You don't even have to look at him. One of us will be with you all night. We'll keep him away from you. Okay?"

Claire looked desperately at him, but nodded her head. "Okay," she murmured.

Courf smiled broadly. "Okay," he said. "Let's dance." He led her out to the dance floor and they began to dance. It didn't take long for Claire to get excited again. She loved to party with Courfeyrac. They always had fun together, whether they were dancing or studying for their classes. The rest of Les Amis always told them that they should date, they hooked up often enough, but they were both happy the way they were. Although they both had a special place in the other's heart there was nothing romantic between them. And right now Courf was keeping her safe from Channing's advances. The rest of their group joined in too. After dancing two songs with Courf, Grantaire stepped in to take his turn, and after Grantaire Bahorel and so on.

She had just rejoined with Courfeyrac when she saw Channing make his way over. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked pleasantly. Courf looked to her for an answer. She knew it was a bad idea, but she nodded. "I've been trying to speak with you all night. I think your friends are trying to keep me away from you."

"What do you want, Channing?" she asked him shortly.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he said quietly.

"Yes," she answered.

"I never meant to hurt you," he said and Claire closed her eyes. "I didn't. I was an idiot. I was afraid to let Kate go because I couldn't believe that you would ever stick around. But I was wrong. I should have taken the chance the second I realized I was in love with you. Cause I am in love with you, if you'd just let me…"

"Stop," she said stepping away from him. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to just come back into my life like nothing happened. You don't get to come back and pretend everything's okay because things are not okay! Nothing about this is okay!"

"Claire…" he started, but she couldn't listen to him anymore.

"I'm going," she said and turned around and headed for the door. She heard him calling after her and saw her friends start to make their way towards her, but she didn't stop. She walked out of The Corinthe and turned left. She didn't know where she was going; she just knew that she needed to get far away from where se was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Here's chapter two. Thanks for reading and please review. Once again, I own nothing from Les Miserables. **

* * *

Ch.2

It had been an hour since Grantaire had arrived at the_ Corinthe _and Enjolras still hadn't made his way to the bar to apologize, despite the meaningful looks his friends kept sending him. Sighing, he watched as Grantaire returned to his barstool after dancing, quite provocatively, with Claire. Now was probably the best time to do it. Enjolras stood up from his table and started to make his way to the bar. Combeferre gave him an encouraging smile and Bahorel gave him two thumbs up. He nodded his head at them as he passed, and then finally reached his target.

"Grantaire," he started but couldn't finish. He was awful at apologizing. He never said the right thing; often he made the situation worse. Sometimes, he thought it was a miracle that he had any friends at all. He tried again, "Grantaire, I'm…"

"You don't have to apologize, Enjolras," Grantaire replied dimly. "You didn't say anything that wasn't true."

Enjolras stared at Grantaire, a feeling of deep remorse washing over him. "I hope you don't really believe that I meant those things, Grantaire," Enjolras said, a hint of desperation in his voice. He'd never meant to make Grantaire feel that way. "I didn't mean a word of it."

Grantaire didn't look like he believed him, but sighed and then said, "I believe you."

"So you'll accept my apology?" Enjolras asked, entirely aware that he hadn't actually apologized.

Grantaire laughed and turned back to his drink. "Yes Enjolras," he said. "Apology accepted." Enjolras nodded and then started to go back to his table, but stopped. This is how it happened every time they had a fight. Courfeyrac would plan an event for the whole group to come to, Enjolras would apologize to Grantaire who always forgave him, Enjolras would go back to moping in the corner eager to go home, and then a few weeks later they'd fight again and the system repeated. He really didn't want this to keep happening, and thought maybe if he actually tried to have a conversation with Grantaire they might get a better understanding of each other. He turned around and sat next to Grantaire at the bar.

Grantaire looked over at him in surprise. "Is there something else?" he asked confused. Once again, Enjolras felt guilty. He knew he ignored Grantaire, but it wasn't because he didn't like him, he just couldn't stand arguing with him all the time. Grantaire infuriated him like no other person he'd ever met. Still, Enjolras hadn't meant to make Grantaire feel bad, and he promised himself that he would be more tolerant of the man from now on.

"No, not really," Enjolras said and realized that he had nothing to say. Enjolras didn't know anything about Grantaire really. He knew he was an art student because of the paint stains on all his clothes and Bahorel mentioned that he sometimes boxed with Grantaire, but otherwise the man was a complete mystery to him. Desperate to end the awkward silence between them he blurted out, "So what have you been up to since Wednesday?"

Grantaire raised his eyebrows and a wry smile twisted its way onto his face. He lifted his beer bottle and shook it. "Drinking," Grantaire replied bringing the bottle to his lips and taking a long pull.

"I hope that wasn't the only activity you pursued," Enjolras replied with some bite to his voice. He wanted to kick himself. It would be their shortest time between fights if he didn't watch it.

Grantaire, however, looked more amused than angry. "Don't worry, Enjolras," the man said. "I did other things than just reach the bottom of a bottle." For some reason that didn't make Enjolras feel any better.

"What about painting?" Enjolras asked desperate to make some conversation. "Have you painted at all this week?"

Once again, a look of surprise crossed Grantaire's face. He stared at Enjolras quizzically and Enjolras squirmed under the pressure of Grantaire's bright blue eyes. Finally Grantaire looked away and shrugged. "I may have dabbled in paint a bit," he answered.

Enjolras nodded. "What exactly do you like to paint?" he asked. "Portraits? Cubism? Landscapes?"

Grantaire laughed. "I don't know, Enjolras," he said. "Whatever I feel like at the moment. This week it was mostly Surrealism."

"Surrealism?" Enjolras repeated and then smiled. "That suits you."

"Actually, I'm not a big fan," Grantaire replied. "I spent a lot of time with Claire this week and she loves the stuff. I guess I was inspired by her."

"What type of art do you appreciate most?" Enjolras inquired honestly curious. He didn't know the first thing about art. He'd never been particularly interested, but he realized while talking about it that Grantaire looked excited for once. It was nice to see that the man did have some passion and direction.

"I like the Renaissance art," Grantaire replied. "You can see the world being reborn. Unlike Surrealism, which just doesn't make sense, it's sort of like being drunk."

Enjolras didn't fail to see the irony in that sentence but chose not to comment on it, instead he asked, "So why does Claire like it?"

Grantaire smiled. "I asked her that once. She said it was because it showed life how it really is," he said. "She said she likes how it depicts that life doesn't make sense, but it's still beautiful and interesting."

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. "That's pretty insightful," he said. "I didn't know she liked art."

"She likes it," Grantaire said and then laughed. "She just can't do it. She's better with words. She likes to write. Well, liked to anyway. She doesn't write anything anymore."

"Why not?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire opened his mouth about to respond but was interrupted by a frantic Courfeyrac. "R, she's gone!" he cried frantic. "Channing danced with her and she left. God she looked upset…"

"What?" Grantaire asked standing up. "Why was Channing anywhere near her?"

"He asked to dance with her, and Claire said yes," Courf explained wearily. "I think she wanted to tell him to leave her alone, but clearly it backfired and she just ran out."

"Which way did she go?" Grantaire asked and started to leave.

"I don't know. I think she went left," Courf replied.

"Alright," Grantaire said. "I've got to go find her."

"I'll come," Enjolras said just as surprised as everyone else that the words were coming out of his mouth.

"You don't have to," Grantaire replied. "It's fine I…"

But Enjolras shook his head. "I'm coming," he said firmly. "I know she's been having a bad time of it lately and I want to make sure she's alright."

"Okay," Grantaire said. "I think I know where to find her anyway."

Enjolras nodded and turned quickly to Courfeyrac. "I don't know when I'll be back tonight," he said. "Don't wait up."

"Sure thing boss," Courf replied and then Enjolras left with Grantaire.

"Where are we going?" Enjolras asked as Grantaire desperately tried to catch a cab.

"All the places Claire usually goes when she's upset," Grantaire answered.

"Do you think we should go to her dad's first?" questioned Enjolras as a cab finally pulled up next to them on the curb.

Grantaire paused before getting in. "Her dad's would be the last place she would go," he finally answered and then slipped into the backseat. Enjolras slid in next to him. "We're most likely going to find her at a bar." Grantaire then leaned forward and gave the driver directions.

"Can't you call her cell?" Enjolras asked.

Grantaire shook his head. "She won't answer it," he said. "Not when she's this upset. Look, I know you're trying to be helpful here, but you have to know that Claire probably isn't going to be happy to see either one of us. Try not to be offended if she isn't particularly pleasant to you."

Enjolras smiled. "That shouldn't be too hard," he quipped. "It's not like she usually has anything nice to say to me." Grantaire smiled but didn't answer as their cab brought them to their destination. When the cab pulled over Grantaire ordered the driver to wait for them and then he and Enjolras entered the bar. "You really think she'd be at this bar?" Enjolras was looking around the bar Grantaire had led him into. It was exactly the kind of bar you'd expect to have big bar fights and questionably legal activities going on. Every patron in the bar looked like the rough and tumble type and Enjolras was all too aware that they'd barely have to touch him to send him to the hospital.

Grantaire looked over his shoulder at him and smiled in amusement. "Relax," he told him. "No one's going to bother you as long as you stay out of their way."

Enjolras nodded hoping that was true. "But do you really think Claire is…" he was about to ask again when he saw her at the bar, leaning on the counter for support, obviously inebriated.

Grantaire saw her too, and immediately walked up to her. "Claire," he said and she spun around to face him, eyes bright from drink and crying.

"What do you want, R?" she slurred sloshing her drink as she went to take another gulp.

Grantaire took the glass away from her and placed it firmly on the bar. "C'mon Claire," he said gently. "Let's get you out of here."

But Claire wouldn't have it. She pulled out of Grantaire's grasp, but stumbled at her lack of balance and was about to fall backwards when Enjolras quickly wrapped an arm around her and kept her steady. Claire looked up at him in surprise and her eyes flashed. She turned to Grantaire. "What's he doing here?" she asked Grantaire.

Grantaire sighed and got on the other side of Claire. "He wanted to help," Grantaire explained.

Claire scoffed. "Oh please," she said. "He doesn't even like me."

"I like you just fine, Claire," Enjolras responded trying to walk evenly under her dead weight as both he and Grantaire dragged her out of the bar.

"Don't lie to me Enjolras," she said clumsily, the drink not allowing her to hold her tongue. "I don't like you and you don't like me. Don't pretend we're friends just because you feel sorry for me. It's bad enough you pull that crap with R."

Enjolras stiffened and was about to respond but Grantaire began to speak before the words reached his tongue. "Give it a rest, Claire," Grantaire said pulling Claire into the cab. "You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"You have some nerve to say that to me when I've been cleaning up your messes all this week! I know exactly what I'm saying, Grantaire. It's the same thing I've been telling you for the past three years!" Claire shouted. She looked like she was about to say more but then burst into tears.

Grantaire pulled her into his arms. "Shh, it's alright," he murmured softly to her and stroked his hand through her hair. "It's alright Claire." Enjolras looked away from them and wished he hadn't come. Clearly, he'd done more harm than good, and if Grantaire didn't hate him before tonight he definitely would now. Enjolras certainly wouldn't blame him. He stared out the window for the rest of the ride until the cab pulled over next to a shady looking apartment building.

Grantaire paid the taxi driver and then pulled Claire out of the cab behind him. Enjolras stepped out of the cab too and followed Grantaire towards the building. "This is where she lives?" he asked looking wary of the run down building.

Grantaire looked over his shoulder at him and shook his head. "No," he answered. "This is my building. I don't have keys to her place. I know where she keeps them, but I don't think she'd be very happy with me if I tried to get them." Enjolras blushed, but didn't say anything else as they walked up to Grantaire's apartment on the fourth floor. "Can you hold her for a second," Grantaire asked and handed her off to him so he could fish for his keys.

Enjolras walked into the apartment behind Grantaire, a now unconscious Claire in his arms. "Do you want me to put her on the couch?" Enjolras asked.

"Nah," Grantaire said taking Claire back from him. "She can have my bed I'll sleep on the couch. If you want to wait a few minutes I could make us some tea."

Enjolras nodded his head. "Yeah sure," he responded and walked towards Grantaire's kitchen while Grantaire himself went to put Claire to bed. Enjolras took the moments he spent alone to glance over Grantaire's apartment. Although, he had known Grantaire for years now, it occurred to him this was the first time he'd ever been in his apartment. Usually when the two were together, it was at the _Musain_ for their weekly meetings or at rallies. With a start Enjolras realized that they'd never really been left alone with each other before. Curious about Grantaire, who he admittedly knew little about, Enjolras's eyes scoured the apartment taking in every tiny detail.

Grantaire was not a neat person. There were beer and wine bottles scattered haphazardly around the room, and if it hadn't been apparent to Enjolras before now, it became clear the Grantaire's drinking was a problem. But the beer bottles weren't the only things cluttering the room. Paint was stained on every surface and everywhere Enjolras looked there were scraps of paper with half- finished sketches. Picking up a piece of paper on the counter next to him, Enjolras realized with a start that the sketch was of him. Even though it was not finished it was still impressive. Every detail of his own face was spot on, right down to the steely look in his eyes he got whenever he was feeling particularly passionate about one of his projects. Enjolras was so wrapped up in the sketch that he didn't notice Grantaire enter the room.

"Oh," Grantaire said flatly. "You weren't supposed to see that."

Enjolras jumped and looked sheepishly at the artist. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was lying right there I didn't mean to pry. It's really good."

What he said didn't appease Grantaire, however. The dark haired artist snatched the sketch off him and shoved it in a drawer in the kitchen. "It was just a way to pass some free time," he replied and he quickly went about getting tea ready.

Enjolras bit his lip, aware that he'd upset Grantaire. Eager to brush over his mistake he said, "I didn't know things were so bad between Claire and Channing. Has she been having a lot of nights like this?"

Grantaire looked over at him from where he stood by the tea kettle. "No," he replied. "Claire's usually got a pretty good handle on herself, she doesn't normally drink herself into the ground like this. He's been trying to get back together with her, but she can't trust him after what happened. If he keeps bothering her though I'll kill him."

Enjolras smiled. "It's nice that you're so protective of her," he said. "You guys have been friends forever, haven't you?"

To his surprise Grantaire shook his head. "Eponine and I have always been friends," he responded. "But neither Eponine nor I were always best friends with Claire."

Enjolras was shocked. The way the three always acted around each other you'd think they were attached at the hip. "I thought you'd always been friends," he said. "Didn't you all go to school together?"

"We did," Grantaire answered. "But Claire was an enemy to me and Eponine at first."

"You're kidding me," Enjolras laughed. "Why?"

Grantaire shrugged. "Different backgrounds," he said. "Me and Eponine were, for the lack of better words, from the wrong side of the track. Claire came from a good family that had enough money."

"I find it hard to believe that would make a difference to a four year old," Enjolras responded surprised. The Claire he knew didn't care about class differences or had any prejudices what-so-ever.

"It wasn't the reason," Grantaire replied. "It just made us different. We didn't really have anything in common. Anyway, the whole thing started when Eponine spilled grape juice on Claire's dress during snack time. Claire freaked out on Ep and when I tried to stick up for her she turned on me too."

"So when did you become friends," Enjolras asked.

"Not until second grade," Grantaire answered. "We got into a fight on the playground, a physical fight. Eponine gave Claire a black eye and Claire split my lip. We were all pretty banged up. After the teachers tore us apart and we were all suspended for a week, all our parents got together and decided to make a play date for us to try and make us get along."

"And it actually worked?" Enjolras said surprised.

"Who would have thought," Grantaire replied shrugging his shoulders. "My parents drove me and Ep over to Claire's home. It was awkward at first, we mostly ignored each other. I just colored, Eponine pouted and Claire was playing with her Barbies when Claire's dog traipsed in carrying a chew toy. Claire abandoned her Barbies to play with the dog. Eponine had always loved dogs, but her parents wouldn't let her have one. It didn't take too long for her to ask if she could play. Claire reluctantly agreed. Soon enough they were both having a blast playing with the dog and I joined in. By the end of the day we were best friends and that's how it's been ever since.

"I was still always closer to Eponine though," Grantaire admitted. "At least through our school years. As I said before, Ep and I had the same background. We could relate to each other more. We lived closer to each other too, and we often did things without Claire. She'd do things without us too. She merged between groups constantly. Mostly she hung out with us, but she did things with the in crowd too. During high school she always got invited to the big parties, where some rich prick would sneak in the good alcohol. Eponine and I always got stuck at the parties that went on in the woods with a few beer kegs."

Enjolras listened with interest as he drank his tea. He'd never had this long of a conversation with Grantaire before, and he was actually fascinated with what the dark haired man was telling him. "You seem closer to Claire now," Enjolras said.

"I am," Grantaire replied. "Eponine's busy with Gavroche, and sometimes Azelma, and working three jobs to support them. Not just that, but, I have more in common with Claire now." That surprised Enjolras. He didn't know much about either of them, but he never would have believed the two had anything in common. Grantaire was cynical and uninterested in the world around him. He was apathetic about his school work, and entirely unambitious. Claire was a passionate person. Although she rarely agreed with Enjolras, she had a firm faith in her own beliefs. She was also a remarkable student, with an intriguing view on the world she lived in. Enjolras knew her to be an ambitious person. If it weren't for her ill temper and sarcastic attitude towards him he would have really liked her.

Grantaire must have noticed his surprise. He smiled and said, "People aren't always what they seem, Enjolras. Claire is many things I am not, but if you strip her down to the bare bones she's not that different."

"I guess I just don't know her very well," Enjolras admitted then looked pointedly at Grantaire. "I don't really know much about you, either."

Grantaire shrugged. "There's not much to know," he replied brusquely, taking Enjolras's empty mug of tea and putting it in the sink. "What you see is what you get with me. Claire, on the other hand, well, it's a shame you two don't get along. You'd probably make the perfect couple.

He could hear the bitterness in Grantaire's voice and it confused him. He couldn't understand what made the artist think he was so unimportant. "I think there is more to you than you know," Enjolras said firmly.

Grantaire looked at him briefly before glancing at the floor and then saying, "Yeah, well, it's late and I need to get to sleep. I have a lot of things to do tomorrow."

Enjolras nodded and stood up. "Thanks for the tea," he said. "I hope I didn't make things worse for Claire tonight." What he really meant was that he hoped he hadn't upset Grantaire.

"She'll be fine," Grantaire said following him to the door. "I'll see you around."

"Bye," Enjolras said but the door had already closed behind him. He sighed, they'd been making so much progress and then he had to go and ruin it. He meant what he said though. There was more to Grantaire than the man realized and Enjolras was determined to learn more about him. He walked home thinking that maybe the night hadn't been a total loss.

Grantaire woke up the next morning, his back aching from sleeping on the couch. He couldn't believe the events of last night actually happened, he was half sure he had dreamt the whole thing. Enjolras really hadn't spent hours talking to him. Why would he? Grantaire's life was not interesting and Grantaire knew Enjolras usually went out of his way to ignore him. Had he really been so pathetic that Enjolras had felt the need to take pity on him? Grantaire was sure he had wasted Enjolras's time. Groaning he sat up and opened his eyes only to see Claire sitting in the arm chair next to him, and staring morosely at him.

"I said some awful things to you last night," she said softly looking down at her lap and picking threads in the blanket she had wrapped around her.

"It's okay, Claire," Grantaire assured her. "You were drunk. People say awful things when they're drunk."

"I don't," Claire said looking up. Her eyes were ringed with smeared mascara, she looked awful. She looked broken. "I'm a happy drunk. The life of the party kind of drunk."

"Okay, you were drunk and upset. It's a bad combination," Grantaire replied getting up so he could kneel in front of her.

"I know but…I said it in front of Enjolras," she said, beginning to cry. "I'm an awful friend. You're always so good to me and I was so terrible to you. You should have left me there."

Grantaire took his hands in hers, desperate to make her listen to him. It unnerved him to see Claire like this. It reminded him too much of Claire after the accident. For months she hadn't been able to get herself together. She'd be okay one second and in tears the next. One night Grantaire had convinced her to go to a party one of her friends had invited her to. Claire agreed to go, but only if he'd go with her. The idea of spending any time with the rich kids he had hated all through school dreaded him, but if it perked Claire up he would go so he agreed. They'd gone to the party and Claire even seemed to be having a good time. Grantaire decided it would be okay to leave her to get a few drinks, but when he came back she was nowhere in sight. He looked frantically around for her. He eventually found her in one of the bathrooms. She was huddled in the corner crying. Grantaire rushed over to her and went to go squeeze her hand, and that's when he realized she was holding a razor.

"Claire," he'd whispered turning her wrists over to see the angry, red cuts streaming blood down her arm.

"I'm sorry," she had said before bursting into tears again. Grantaire took the razor off her and threw it away before taking care of her. That was the first time he'd caught her cutting herself, but it wasn't the last. And the way she looked now, sitting on his armchair, looked too similar to how he'd found her that night. He quickly glanced at her wrists to make sure she hadn't hurt herself while he'd been sleeping, but the only cuts there were the old ones she'd made a few days before.

Sighing he said, "Claire I need you to listen to me. You are the very best friend I could have. You've taken care of me all this week and many times before. Sometimes, you're the only reason I get out of bed in the morning, because I know you'll always be there to make me laugh and fight all my demons. I don't want you to feel bad about last night. You have nothing to be sorry for, do you understand?"

Claire was still blinking back tears but she nodded. "I understand," she choked.

He nodded his head. "Go shower," he said standing up. "I'll make us breakfast."

"Waffles?" she asked sniffling.

Grantaire smiled. "Waffles it is," he agreed and went into the kitchen to make them while Claire went to go take a shower. Half an hour later and the waffles were done and Claire was out of the shower and sitting at Grantaire's counter. Grantaire nodded in approval at her appearance. She didn't look so lost anymore, and her emotions were under control. She wasn't quite her usually cheery self, but he was certain that he didn't need to worry about her cutting herself.

"Thanks for the waffles," Claire said as he placed her plate in front of her.

"No problem," he replied taking his seat next to her. "Anything to cheer you up. I do mean anything, by the way, including beating the shit out of Channing."

Claire smiled at him. "That sounds tempting," she admitted. "But I can't let you do that."

"Why? You really think he could take me on?" Grantaire asked pretending to be smug. He was a good boxer, almost as good as Bahorel.

"He wouldn't have to," Claire said. "His father's in the Senate."

Grantaire dropped his fork and stared at her. "No kidding," he finally said. "How do you always find yourself in the good crowd?"

Claire smirked and chugged down the rest of her orange juice. "I'm nice to everyone," she replied. "Except Enjolras. I suppose I owe him an apology for last night."

"Not if you don't want to," Grantaire assured her. "I warned him that you wouldn't be pleasant. He insisted on coming anyway so if his feelings got hurt it's his own fault."

Claire nodded. "I'll apologize," she said. "He was nice enough to make sure I was okay, so when I see him Monday I'll apologize for being such a bitch to him. Why did he come anyway?"

Grantaire just shrugged. "We were talking when…" but Claire cut him off.

"You guys were talking?" she asked amazed.

"Yeah, about art," he replied. "He stayed here for a little after I got you settled. We were talking about how you, Ep, and I became friends."

"Wow," Claire said. "Looks like me getting drunk off my ass really did wonders for your relationship troubles. I should get drunk more often."

"Thanks for the offer, but I blew it anyway," Grantaire replied glumly.

"What, did you two get in another fight?" Claire asked as he got up to put their plates away.

"No. Enjolras tried to complement me…"

"And you got pricklier than a cactus and sent him packing," Claire finished for him. "You are hopeless."

Grantaire smirked. "You know me so well," he said. "How are you getting home?"

Claire smiled. "Kicking me out, R?" she teased. "I was going to call a cab. There's no way I'm walking in these heels." He looked down her long legs to see her wearing ridiculously long heels. "Eyes up here Grantaire."

Grantaire scoffed. "Please," he said. "As if I haven't seen you naked before."

"Totally doesn't count," Claire argued. "We were both drunk. You probably can't even remember what I look like without clothes on."

"It would be hard to forget you naked, Claire," he shot back. "You may be my best friend, but I'm still qualified to tell you that you are one sexy lady. Actually, I'm probably the most qualified."

Claire laughed. "Touché," she laughed. "You're not too bad looking yourself, and that thing you do with your tongue…rawr."

He smiled and took out his cellphone to call a cab for her. "I'm going to ride with you to your apartment," he told her.

"You don't have to do that, R. I'm fine," she tried to assure him but he shook his head.

"It's not that," he replied. "I actually have to go to the museum today. Your apartments on my way."

"The museum?" Claire said intrigued. "Why do you need to go there?"

"One of the museum's patrons saw one of my artworks at the school's exhibition, and took an interest," he explained. "He told the people at the museum about me and they called me and asked to see some of my artwork."

"Grantaire, that's wonderful!" Claire gasped hugging him. He grimaced at the praise, but, because it was Claire allowed it. "Does anyone else know?"

"No," he said firmly. "You weren't even supposed to know. I don't want anyone finding out about this either. Most likely nothing's going to come of it."

Claire sighed in annoyance. "Honestly, R," she said. "You are the most ridiculous person I know. You're artwork is amazing. They are going to love it and you are going to be famous."

Grantaire smirked. "Always so realistic," he teased pulling her hair.

She smacked him. "For you it is realistic," she told him firmly. "What pieces are you going to show him?"

He led her over to his "art studio" (the extra room in his apartment) and opened his portfolio. "These," he said laying four pieces out in front of Claire. The first one was a sketch of Eponine and Gavroche posing in front of the Lincoln Memorial. He liked this because it reminded him of how family should be. He hadn't come from a good home. Both of his parents drank and both were mean drunks. They had been abusive to each other and to Grantaire, and when he'd turned seventeen he ran out on them, staying with whatever friend would let him crash on their couch. The sketch meant so much to Grantaire because it showed him that not every family was like his. Admittedly, Eponine's parents were just as bad as his, but the siblings all pulled together to be their own family, it was a nice thing.

Grantaire's second piece was an oil painting of the entrance to the Smithsonian National Zoological Park. He liked this piece because the park had been his favorite place to go when he was a kid. He used to beg his parents to take him every weekend. They would go together, it was one of the few times they acted like an actual family, and they'd wander around looking at the animals, his favorite had always been the zebras. He'd gone to look at them the day he'd painted the picture.

The last two pieces of art were sketches of Claire. He'd sketched her at the Musain during Enjolras's meetings. One was a sketch of her flirting with Courfeyrac, a smile on her face and her foot brushing up Courfeyrac's thigh. The other was a picture of her arguing with Enjolras. He liked this sketch the most because it featured his two favorite people, both ignited with burning passion. There was a determined look in both their eyes and power and self-confidence radiated around the two of them.

He looked up at Claire to see her reaction. She was staring at the sketch of her and Enjolras. "Is that really how you see me?" she asked.

He frowned at the tone in her voice, she didn't sound happy. "Don't you like it?" he asked concerned. "I can pick a different piece…"

She shook her head. "I love it," she replied, "I just…can't believe that's actually me."

Grantaire looked at her, puzzled. "What do you mean?" he said.

"Nothing," she replied quickly. "I don't mean anything. Hurry up and get those ready to go, the cab will be here soon." He watched her walk out of the room. How did she think he saw her?

The cab pulled up to her apartment building and Claire slid out of the cab. "Let me know how it goes at the museum," she said turning back towards the cab.

Grantaire smiled at her. "Will do," he promised her. "I wouldn't expect much to come of it though." Claire rolled her eyes and slammed the door of the cab shut. She could see R laughing inside the cab and she waved as the cab drove off towards the museum. Smiling, she entered her apartment building and took the elevator to the fifth floor where her apartment was. She was still smiling when she reached her floor, but when the elevator opened she saw her ex standing in front of her door. Her first thought was to get right back on the elevator and head down but it was too late. Her ex had turned at the sound of the elevator door opening and was now staring at her in relief.

Although she could still escape if she wanted to the second thought in her head was that her ex looked awful. Like her, he was still in last night's clothes and she could tell from the bags under his eyes and the drawn look on his normally handsome face that he had been up all night looking for her. Sighing, she walked towards her apartment pulling her keys out of her bra. "What do you want, Channing?" she asked unlocking the door.

"I want to talk to you," he answered. "We need to finish our conversation from last night."

She was tempted to let the door slam in his face, but the ridiculously large part of her that was still madly in love with him reminded her that he had been out all night looking for her. "Come in," she said and the two walked into her living room. She turned to face him. "Alright, talk."

"I'm sorry about last night," he apologized. "I never meant to upset you. I just wanted to let you know how I really feel about you. I understand why you're mad at me. I lied to you. I just wanted you to know that I wasn't lying when I told you I loved you."

Claire folded her arms tightly over her chest. When he talked like that she almost believed him, but she couldn't forget what it had felt like when Eponine told her that she wasn't the only girl in Channing's life. "I wish I could believe you," she finally said sitting down on the couch.

He nodded his head. "I wish you could too," he sighed. "I wish I could back and do things differently."

"Well unfortunately, life doesn't work that way," she snapped and then sighed. He didn't not deserve her hostility, but he had apologized several times and she could tell that he really was sorry. "Look, I can't be involved with you anymore. I can't stop you from coming to the meetings or hanging out with our friends, but I need you to leave me alone. I hope one day I can forgive you, I really do. But today is not that day, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he replied quickly. "I'm the only one who should be sorry. If you need me to leave you alone I will. Whatever you need." He got up then and headed for the door, but paused and turned around. "I was worried about you when you ran off last night. I'm glad you're okay." And then he left. Claire sighed and got up off the couch to change. Before she could reach her bedroom she noticed her answering machine blinking. Expecting it to be one of her friends checking to see if she was alright she decided to listen to the message.

"_Claire, honey, this is Mrs. Ritter, your old next door neighbor. I hate to be the one to tell you this but your father is in the hospital. He got into a bar fight. I don't think it's anything serious but I think you should come down because….well I shouldn't say it over the phone. Just come on down when you get this. I'll be home._

"Fuck!" she said slamming a fist down on the table. She hurried to get dressed and was then out the door, on her way home. About thirty minutes later she had pulled up to the house she had grown up in. She stepped out of the car and rushed over to her old neighbor's house. The Ritters had always been good neighbors. They had never had any children of their own and had loved Claire and her sister, Heather. Mrs. Ritter always let them help bake cookies or plant in her garden and Mr. Ritter taught them science tricks. They were tremendously supportive after the accident, and often tried to help Claire with her alcoholic father.

She hadn't even reached the door when Mrs. Ritter flew out of the house and pulled Claire into an embrace. "Thank the heavens you got here," she cried before pulling her into the house. "I didn't think it was right to tell you over the phone, but your daddy got in a fight with Mr. Eklemen. Now you know that man, he's such a mean thing, but he'll be going to the police and this isn't your father's first incident. I'm afraid if charges are pressed your father may face some time."

Claire paled. Her father had gotten into a bar fight a year and a half ago and had seriously injured the other guy. He had barely gotten off with just a fine. Even though her father was the victim in this fight, he still started it and if Mr. Eklemen was hurt and going to press charges her father would not escape jail time. She knew her father wouldn't do well in prison and she couldn't afford to lose him. Regardless of her poor relationship with him he was still her father and she loved him.

"Thank you for letting me know," she said quickly to Mrs. Ritter who was staring at her kindly. "I have to go talk to Eklemen." And she quickly left and ran down the street where Mr. Eklemen resided. Mr. Eklemen would never listen to her. He had hated both her and her father ever since she had kicked a ball into his yard and squashed his tulips. Her father had stuck up for her and Mr. Eklemen had had it out for them ever since. Still she had to try and reason with him so she walked up and knocked on his door.

The door swung open and Claire watched his face twist into a smirk at the sight of her. "What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to not press charges," she replied coolly. There was no point in beating around the bush, he knew what she wanted.

"Oh," he rasped amused. "Well, that's a shame. I already informed the police of last night's transgression they should be arresting him within the hour."

"You're not even hurt," she cried angrily.

Mr. Eklemen shrugged and smiled maliciously. "That don't mean he has the right to assault me," he said. "Now you have a nice day." The door closed in her face. Claire closed her eyes as she walked down the sidewalk towards her car. She couldn't let her father get arrested and she knew someone who could keep that from happening. She just hoped he wouldn't listen to her earlier desire for him to leave her alone.

She pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed him. He picked up on the first ring. "Claire?" he asked. "Do you need something?"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm at my home in Alexandria," she told him. "I need your help."

She had been waiting for barely twenty five minutes when Channing's car parked pulled up next to her. He pushed open the door for her and she hopped in. "What happened?" he asked.

"My father got into a bar fight last night. The man he assaulted put him in the hospital but that's not stopping him from pressing charges," she explained and was embarrassed to feel tears welling up. "My father already has an assault charge from last year. He won't get away with just a fine this time and he can't go to jail. He just can't! I…"

"Hey," Channing soothed reaching over to squeeze her hand. "Everything's going to be okay. I'll help any way I can but I don't know what you want me to do."

Claire nodded. "We need to get to the police station before they can get to my father," she explained.

"That's fine," he said. "But how are we going to get them to drop the charges. I'm assuming the guy he assaulted can't be convinced to drop them."

"No I already tried that," she replied briskly. "Your father's a Senator."

"Yeah so?" Channing asked.

"So if he tells the police not to arrest my father they'll drop the charges, won't they?" she inquired.

Channing looked alarmed. "They would, but my dad is not going to interfere in some assault charge," he said.

"Can't you convince him to?" she cried sounding desperate even to herself.

Channing wavered but sighed and pulled out his phone. "I can try," he told her and the two pulled into the station.

Claire jumped out of the car and burst through the doors of the police station. One of the officers near the desk asked, "Can we help you with anything?"

"Yes!" she said rushing over to them. "My name is Claire Newton. My father is the man who assaulted Mr. Eklemen last night. You have to drop the charges! He…"

The officer interrupted her before she could continue. "Now listen ma'am," he said not unkindly. "I know you must be feeling very upset, but we can't just drop charges without Mr. Eklemen's consent."

"I know but…" Claire protested but the officer was having not of it.

"I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do," he said just as Channing entered the station.

"Actually you can," Channing said walking up to them. "My father would appreciate it if you'd drop the charges." Claire smiled gratefully at him. He'd done it!

The police officer scoffed. "And who exactly is your father?" he asked annoyed now.

Channing smiled smugly. "Senator Wilcox," he replied watching the officer's face drain of color. Channing held the phone out to him. "Want to ask him?"

The officer shook his head. "No, no," he stuttered. "That won't be necessary. I'll go drop the charges right now. I won't even have to call anyone back; we haven't sent anyone out yet. You tell Senator Wilcox to have a nice day."

Channing's smile grew even wider and he put the phone up to his ear and said, "He says he'll drop the charges and to have a nice day. See you at home pops."

The officer still looked pale when he turned back to Claire. "You can go assure your father he's not facing any charges," he said. "If Mr. Eklemen tries to cause any problems we'll deal with him."

"Thank you," Claire replied and then watched as the officer shuffled away to take care of the paperwork. She and Channing left the building. She waited until they got in the car before she screeched and hugged Channing awkwardly from the passenger seat. "You did it! I knew you could get your father to agree to it!"

Channing smiled at her but was shaking his head. "Actually," he said sheepishly. "My father wouldn't agree to it."

Claire stared at him puzzled. "But you just said…you had him on the phone…did you…ohmigod you didn't!" she exclaimed. "You even offered him the phone!"

He laughed. "I was hoping he wouldn't call my bluff," he chuckled. "Anyway I'm just glad it got the charges dropped. Speaking of your father, what way is it to the hospital?"

"Oh don't worry about that," Claire said abruptly. "If you'll just drop me off at my car we can both go home."

Channing was silent for a few seconds. "You're not going to visit your dad?" he asked quietly.

She looked over at him. "You know I'm not close to him anymore," she said. "Besides, he won't want to see me. He never does."

"You're his daughter, Claire," he replied. "I'm sure he'll want to see you."

"Please, just take me back to my car," she begged. He sighed but didn't say anything else until five minutes later when they reached her old house.

"Drive safely," he said as she got out of his car.

"I will," she assured him. "And Channing, thank you."

"Anytime," he replied winking before driving off. Claire got into the driver's seat of her own car and was about to follow after him when she looked back at her own house. She headed towards the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Hey I know I said in response to a review that I wouldn't get this story up, but I was bored and managed to get the chapter together. Thank you for reading and please review. I own nothing from Les Miserables. **

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Ch. 3

Enjolras was rushing to get home after his last class on Monday. Claire was coming over to his apartment to discuss the project they were working on together. With all the traffic of the day he would be lucky if he wasn't late. Finally, his cab pulled up to his apartment and he quickly paid the driver before running into the building and taking the stairs two at a time until he reached his floor. "Is Claire here yet?" he gasped bursting through the door into his apartment.

"Claire's coming over?" Courfeyrac asked interestedly.

"To work on our project. Keep it in your pants, Courf," Enjolras said firmly. He didn't understand Courfeyrac's relationship with Claire. The two hooked up on occasions and although they rarely rendezvoused here, there had been more than one awkward morning.

Combeferre broke in before either could anger the other and said, "She called a few minutes ago. She said she'll be late; she's stuck in traffic."

Enjolras nodded his head and took a second to catch his breath. "Well," he said finally, "at least I'll have a few more minutes of peace."

"I don't see why you agreed to work with her if you really hate her that much," Courfeyrac said.

"I didn't agree to work with her. Our professor paired us up, and I do not hate her," Enjolras snapped. "She hates me."

Courfeyrac was about to say something when there was a knock on the door. "I'll get it," Combeferre said and hurried to the door.

"Hey 'Ferre," Enjolras could hear Claire say. "Anything exciting go on today?"

"Not really," he replied. "Just a typical Monday."

"Typical?" Courfeyrac called out as Claire stepped further into the apartment. "There's nothing typical about you and Enjolras working together."

"Courf," Enjolras sighed.

Claire, however, smiled. "I know," she agreed. "Hopefully we don't kill each other."

"I doubt it'll come to that," Enjolras replied dryly, although secretly he was thinking the same thing. Claire smiled but didn't comment. "I guess we should get started."

"Lead the way," Claire said and he led them to his room shutting the door behind him. He turned around to face Claire only to see her plop down on his bed hard enough for the springs to squeak. He frowned slightly.

She noticed however and smirked. "I'd be willing to bet I'm the only girl who's ever been in your bed, Enjolras," she teased. He blushed and then scowled at her. She always knew exactly what buttons to push. The rest of Amis often made teasing comments about his virgin status, but their comments didn't bother him. He didn't know why Claire's irked him. It shouldn't matter to him. If he was being honest with himself the reason he was a virgin was not because there was no interest in him, but that he was truly uninterested in sexual activities. He was used to getting hit on. He was handsome and he knew it, but he was not interested in the advances of others. He was in the habit of refusing to look at women who often swooned over him, and he averted any man who showed interest. However, he did not need Claire taking jabs at him.

"Can we just get to work?" he sighed sitting down on his desk chair.

"Sure," she replied rolling over and resting on her arms. He tried not to be annoyed that her shoes were on his bed cover. "What element do you think started the revolution?"

"I think it was the advance in technology," he stated. "So I think we should get an outline together…."

"I think you're delusional," Claire replied. "The revolution clearly started because of world trade."

Enjolras sighed. "Trade was going on for eras before the Industrial Revolution began. On what basis do you think it caused the revolution?" he asked.

"Okay first off, there may have been trade going on before the revolution, but not to this extent. Ships could sale farther …"

"Because of technological advances!" Enjolras said loudly cutting her off.

Claire glared at him. "I never said technology didn't have anything to do with it I just don't think it was the main element that started it off," she argued. "And I wasn't done. Secondly, world trade allowed Britain to take in ideas and values and material from all the foreign countries it traded with."

"But they wouldn't have been able to produce the new goods without new technology," Enjolras pointed out.

"Well, that just makes technology a product of the Industrial Revolution not the cause," Claire replied hotly and then they both started shouting at each other simultaneously.

They were really getting into it when they heard a knock on the door and then saw Combeferre poke his head in. "Is everything alright?" he asked quietly looking back and forth between them.

"She refuses to listen to reason," Enjolras accused.

"I refuse?" Claire replied indignantly. "I'm not the one whose pig headed and Combeferre will agree with me on this one."

"He will not," Enjolras said turning to look at his best friend, but to his surprise he was smiling and looking like he very much agreed with Claire. "Combeferre!"

His friend smiled at him before replying, "I'm sorry, Enjolras but Claire is right on this point. You don't listen to anyone else's ideas."

"That's…" he started but realized he had no chance against winning the argument. "Well what do you think started the Industrial Revolution in Great Britain then? Technological advances or world trade?"

Combeferre looked thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure I completely agree with either of those choices, but if those are the two you're between why not have a debate to compete what topic you go with?" he suggested.

"A debate?" Claire asked.

"Yes," Combeferre replied. "You can each list your own reasons for why you think either technology or trade started the revolution, and then present it to the Amis on Wednesday. Whoever convinces the majority of the group wins and the loser can't say anymore against it."

"I can agree to that," Claire said quickly. "Enjolras?"

He hesitated. It was a good idea, but Claire was a dangerous component. She was very persuasive and very smart. They often got into hot debates at their meetings, almost as often as he and Grantaire. Enjolras was a diehard Democrat and Claire was a very intransigent Republican, and they had very different views on how the world should be. He wasn't sure he wanted to participate in this proposed debate because he wasn't sure he could beat her. They were fairly matched in political knowledge, but Claire knew way more about history than he did. However, he was unwilling to give up his topic so finally he agreed. "A debate is fine with me," he said.

"Good," Combeferre smiled. "It should be an interesting meeting. I suppose you guys are done working tonight then?"

"Yes," Enjolras replied a little snappish. "There's no point in continuing since we don't have a topic."

He saw Claire open her mouth to say something back but Combeferre quickly butt in. "Well in that case, Courf and I were going to watch "Blades of Glory". Do you want to join us?" he offered.

"I'll pass," Enjolras replied. He hated that movie. Anything with Will Ferrell in wasn't worth watching. "I have studying for other classes to do."

Claire declined also. "I have other work too," she said. "Not to mention a debate to prepare for." And with a quick goodbye to Enjolras and Combeferre she left the room.

Combeferre quickly shut the door and folded his arms across his chest. "I thought we talked about this kind of behavior from you," he said.

Enjolras sighed. "It's not like I mean to be nasty to her," he exclaimed. "But she's so aggravating."

"She's not aggravating, Enjolras," Combeferre said. "She just doesn't always agree with everything you say."

"Try always," Enjolras pointed out.

"That's not true. You two believe in a lot of the same things, you just go around doing them differently," his friend replied.

Enjolras sighed. "I know," he said giving in. "But that doesn't make it any easier for me to get along with her."

"Well I suggest you try harder," Combeferre sighed. "You two are going to have to work together until the project's over. It'll be easier for you and everyone else if you can try and get along. Now come on and watch the movie with us."

"You know I can't stand Will Ferrell," Enjolras said but he got up to join them anyway.

Grantaire was annoyingly sober. He had been about to have his first beer of the day when Eponine called him and asked if he could babysit Gavroche for her; she had taken an extra shift at the bar she works at. Grantaire, being the saint that he is, poured his beer down the drain and told Eponine he'd be right over. Eight hours later he was regretting ever agreeing to it. Gavroche was as annoying as every other ten year old, and although Grantaire loved the kid like he was his own little brother his high strung energy and loud cries of excitement from playing his video games was not helping Grantaire's withdrawal headache. He needed a drink.

"Hey R!" Gavroche shouted from the couch. Grantaire winced but asked him what he wanted. "Come play with me."

He loved video games as much as the next guy, but there was no way he could handle the volume level today. "Sorry kid," he replied walking over to the TV and unplugging it. "Actually, I think you've had enough video games today."

"Oh come on!" Gavroche cried tossing his video game console down on the couch.

"Gavroche, if R says no more video games for today that means no more video games," Eponine scolded coming in the door.

"Fine," Gavroche sighed and then sulked off to find something else to do.

"Thank god you're home," Grantaire said plopping down on the couch and closing his eyes.

"Was he that bad?" Eponine asked standing over him.

"Nahh," he assured her. "I just have a killer headache."

Eponine was silent for a second before replying, "I'll get you a beer."

"Thanks," Grantaire replied getting up and following her to the kitchen. "How was work?"

"Ugh!" she sighed. "If I didn't need the extra money I'd quit. I'll be lucky to make rent even with the extra shift."

"I'd love to help, but I have enough trouble paying my own rent," he said. "If you run short on rent why don't you ask Claire to cover it for you? She has the money."

"Claire, hasn't spoken to me since I told her about Channing, R," Eponine pointed out handing him his beer.

"I know, but that doesn't mean she wants you to default on your rent, Ep," he replied and then took a long sip of the beer. "She'd give you the money."

"I know," Eponine said. "But it's not her job to pay my rent. I'll get the money somehow." They were both silent for a few minutes before Eponine asked, "How is she?"

"She's coping," Grantaire answered. "Channing's been trying to get her back and her dead was in the hospital."

"Why?" Eponine exclaimed. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine," he replied. "He just got in a bar fight and got a little banged up. His bigger problem was the assault charge against him, but somehow Claire and Channing got the police to drop the charges."

"How'd they manage that?" Eponine asked.

Grantaire smiled. "Channing's father is in the Senate," he replied enjoying the look on Eponine's face.

"You're kidding!" she gasped. "No way! How does she always manage to fall in with these people?"

"That's what I asked her," he laughed. "She said something about being nice to everybody."

"That's more or less true," Eponine chuckled. "She really is nice to every person unless they don't deserve her kindness…or they piss her off."

"Well, she does have a wicked temper," Grantaire admitted.

"Yeah, remember that time she beat the shit out of Montparnasse?" Eponine cried.

He laughed. "Hard to forget when a five foot two sixteen year old girl demolishes a boy a whole foot taller than her," he replied. "She's lucky she didn't get arrested for that one."

Eponine laughed, but then her face fell. "I miss her," she admitted.

Grantaire reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "She'll come around, Ep," he said. "She's just confused and upset but things are settling down and you know she doesn't stay angry for very long."

"I know, but it feels like it's been a long time," she sighed. "Thanks for babysitting Gavroche."

"No problem," Grantaire replied getting up. "Anytime you need me just give me a call."

"Will do," Eponine assured him. "See you later, R."

"See you," he called back over his shoulder and began to walk home.

Claire was still fuming from her time with Enjolras when she reached her apartment, and her mood only plummeted when she stepped out of the elevator to see Channing standing at her door once again. "You've got to be kidding me!" she exploded storming towards him. "Do I need to get a restraining order to convince you to stay away from me?"

To her complete annoyance he smiled amusedly at her. "Relax," he said. "The only reason I'm here is to invite you to a party my father is throwing in two weeks."

Claire sighed. "Look, I know you're trying to bury the hatchet between us, but I thought I made myself clear when…"

"You did," he assured her. "But you see there will be a lot of important people at this party, including the head of the Library of Congress."

"The Library of Congress," she asked excitedly.

Channing nodded his head. "The head of the library is good friends with my father," he explained. "I can bring a guest to the party, and I know that it's your dream to work in the Library of Congress. If you make a good impression with the head of the library he can make sure you get hired when you graduate."

"But if I accept your invitation I have to go as your date," she said.

He shrugged but looked apologetic. "I tried to get my dad to extend an invitation to you but he said that he couldn't, which is a total lie."

"Don't worry about it, Channing," she replied opening the door to her apartment. "My feelings aren't hurt." She stepped inside and held the door open for him.

"You want me to come in?" he asked sounding surprised.

"Well if you're taking me to some high society party the least I can do is offer you some hospitality," she answered.

"So you'll go with me?" he said hopefully.

She nodded. "I can't pass up that opportunity," she replied. "Plus, I've always wondered what rich people did at parties."

"I thought your family was well off," Channing questioned.

"My family is, but we're not in the same league as yours," she said sitting down on the couch and looking over at him. He was still standing near the door looking like he expected her to kick him out at any second. For some reason this made her bad mood come back. "Will you stop standing there with your tail between your legs and staring at me with those puppy eyes?!"

He burst out laughing, but walked over and sat next to her on the couch. "Who pissed in your Cheerios?" he asked.

"Enjolras," she replied. "He is such a little bitch!"

"I heard you two had to work together on a project," Channing said. "It'll be a miracle if you two don't kill each other." She hummed in agreement. "What was the argument about anyway?"

"We can't decide on a topic for the project," she answered. "We're having a debate at the Amis meeting on Wednesday to see whose topic wins."

"That should be one hell of a meeting," Channing chuckled. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go for it," she said.

"Why do you even bother staying with Amis," he said. "Everyone but you and me are Democrats. Why not start your own political club?"

"They may be a group of Democrats, but minus Enjolras they're all my friends," she answered truthfully. "And I don't start my own club because it would be unethical to exclude people just because they don't belong to the same political party as me. Why do you go?"

"Honestly," he replied. "Because it makes my dad happy to think I'm interested in politics."

Claire glanced over at him. "You're not interested in politics?" she said incredulously.

"I might have Grantaire beat for complete lack of interest," he said nodding his head seriously, but then cracking a smile. "It's not that I'm not interested, I just don't want to make a career out of it."

"The majority of the Amis don't intend to be politicians, Channing," she told him.

"I know," he said. "But my dad…well he thinks I'm going to be like my two older brothers, Evan and Preston. He thinks I'm going to go on to be some great lawyer and then run for office, and then become the President of the United States."

"Well, if that's not what you want to do don't do it," Claire said simply. "You can do other things with you Political Science and Prelaw major. Or do something with your Mythology minor."

"What would I do with my mythology minor?" he asked.

"I don't know? Write a book," she said. "It doesn't matter what you do as long as it makes you happy."

"I want to be a lawyer," Channing said. "I just don't want to be a divorce lawyer, or an environmental layer. I want to be a prosecutor in the criminal courts."

"Wow," Claire said. "That's unexpected. I totally support it."

"It doesn't hurt that I'd probably be working against Enjolras every once in a while does it?" he teased.

She shrugged. "I was being serious," she said. "I want you to do something you want to do."

"I want that for you too," he said. "That's why I'm really glad you're going to the party with me."

"Me too," she replied surprising herself. He was looking at her intently, his green eyes searching her face. "I really I'm going too." And then they were kissing. There was a part of her that wanted to stop it, but the other side was winning. He felt right. It felt so good to be back in his arms, to have his lips on hers. She felt his arm wrap around her waist and he pushed her back onto the couch. She wrapped arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. His hands slid up her shirt and pushed her bra up so he could fondle her breasts. "Channing," she moaned, but he misunderstood her and immediately got up off of her.

"I'll see you Wednesday," he said quickly and rushed out of her apartment. She sat gasping on the couch wondering what just happened. She didn't want to get back together with him. She never should have kissed him. All the progress she made getting over him just got flung out the window. Despite the fact that she had told him to stay away from her she now wished she'd told him to never leave her. She was screwed.


End file.
